


Flicker to Flame

by Leela



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, RPS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2011-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heat from the flame leaps from Adam's palm to Tommy's. Adam's fingers tighten on his, and Tommy's sinking down to his knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flicker to Flame

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta** : florida_minxie, eeyore9990
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : The characters bear only superficial resemblance to real people. I don't know them and don't even begin to claim that this is about them.
> 
>  **A/N** : This is a (pretty much PWP) continuation of the drabble, [Flicker](http://archiveofourown.org/works/25732) that I wrote for glam_100 (on [LJ](http://glam-100.livejournal.com/) and [DW](http://glam-100.dreamwidth.org/)). And seriously, folks, if y'all aren't playing, reading, commenting, writing, there, you should be. There's a lot of fun going down.

The walk up to Adam's house seems to take forever. Tommy's so jittery with nerves or some such shit that he fumbles the gate combination a couple of times. On the third try, totally not wanting to set off the alarm and warn Adam he's there, Tommy focuses on each number and key, not pressing down until he's sure he's got it right. Then he slips on one of the fucking random stones that border the path, almost twisting his ankle as he goes over on his Creepers.

Cursing under his breath, he pauses and looks at the house. It's dark, too damn dark, and for a second, Tommy thinks it would be un-fucking-hysterically funny if he's stumbling around in the dark and Adam's not even home.

There's a flicker of light, though, distant enough that Tommy can identify which room, way in the back. He's drawn to it, unable to walk away, even as he wonders what the fuck brought him there in the middle of the night.

Eventually, he's in the back yard, moving through the grass, sure and steady now, because he's been out there in daylight and darkness. And when he gets to the huge-ass windows that run across the entire back of the house, he finally sees Adam.

A single candle lights Adam's face from below, and he's toying with the flame. Coming far too close to burning himself.

Not taking his eyes off Adam, Tommy walks up to the open doors and stands between them. Adam clearly doesn't know he's there; his entire attention is on the candle flame, lowering his hand, leaving it almost long enough to sear his skin before raising it. There's a cadence to his movements, a rhythm that has Tommy's fingers moving and Tommy wanting a guitar so he can play it.

 _Play Adam._

That's when the realization hits Tommy, and he knows why he's there. When Adam lifts his eyes and looks directly into Tommy's. There's something in Adam's eyes that goads Tommy, drives right into him and fucking _bends_ him.

Tommy tries to shrug off that weird feeling and aims one of his trademark sly grins at Adam. And because he's an idiot who sometimes can't keep his mouth shut to save his life, he says, "Better things you can do with fire than play with it like that."

It was probably the cheesiest fucking pick-up line that Tommy had ever spoken out loud, but Adam didn't seem to care. In fact, while Tommy's rolling his eyes at himself, Adam's giving him _that_ smile, the one full of delight that the fans hardly ever get to see, and he's holding his hand out for Tommy.

Tommy kicks off his Creepers before he can so much as think about it. They always squeak against the damned wood, and that kind of teasing is so not what he wants from Adam. Not right now, anyways.

Each step feels like a milestone passed. Relearning the bass in one fucking night. Being sky-motherfucking-high on Adam's touch and mouth after the AMAs. Getting through concert after concert and all the damned thinking he's been trying not to do.

None of it matters though. Not here and not now, because he's close enough to take Adam's hand. The heat from the flame leaps from Adam's palm to Tommy's. Adam's fingers tighten on his, and Tommy's sinking down to his knees.

Adam's tongue is in Tommy's mouth before he's got it open. He's nibbling on Tommy's lower lip, sucking it in, and Tommy's entire body is getting with that program. He presses into Adam, brings his hand — their twined hands up — to frame Adam's face.

"You." Adam breathes the word into Tommy's mouth. His free hand slides down Tommy's back to curve around his ass. "Oh my god, you."

Tommy can feel Adam's lips curve into a smile against his own. He's torn between pushing into Adam's mouth and grinding back against his hand. Except Adam just leans forward and some-fucking-how Tommy finds himself laid out on his back, legs bent beneath him.

"You are so damn lucky I'm flexible," Tommy says, laughing.

"In more ways than one," Adam murmurs as he extricates his hand from Tommy's.

They're both twisting around and touching each other and working to straighten out Tommy's legs when he's hit square in the middle of the forehead by how much he trusts Adam to do this right.

Something, Tommy doesn't even know what, must have shown on his face, because Adam's smile brightens even further. He settles down between Tommy's legs and begins to touch. Almost reverently at first, sliding his big warm hands under Tommy's hoodie, releasing a shaky breath when he hits bare skin. Because Tommy hadn't stopped to think when the urge to visit Adam had hit; he'd just yanked on enough clothes to make sure he couldn't be arrested for indecent driving or whatever shit excuse the cops used.

Adam's hands keep on moving up, taking Tommy's hoodie with them, and forcing him to lift his arms and shoulders so Adam can get it off. Tommy's half-naked, feeling more exposed than he's ever been, all skinny chest and tattoos. And just like that, everything changes. It's Tommy and Adam, and nothing like the half-serious flirting, teasing, and taunting they've been doing since the AMAs. Fuck, pretty much since his audition.

"Look at you," Adam says. He's settled back on his heels, sliding his hands up the sides of Tommy's still-covered thighs and hips, splaying out as they continue up over bare skin, leaving goosebumps prickling in their wake.

Never one to just lie back and take it, no matter who's doing the fucking, Tommy reaches up and tugs on Adam's t-shirt. "Get this off. I wanna look at you."

"Whatever you want," Adam says as he yanks it over his head.

Tommy's vision is filled with pale skin and freckles. He's about holding his breath as he shifts around until he can sit up and spread his hands over Adam's chest. His forefingers and thumbs and the webbing between them form curving arcs below Adam's nipples. He's touching hard muscle instead of soft flesh, touching Adam, and Tommy's cock jerks in appreciation.

"Hey." Adam's voice is soft, amused. "I'm up here."

"I hadn't noticed," Tommy manages before he starts snickering. And maybe there's a thread of something else in there, because, hell, he's half-naked with Adam, but it vanishes when Adam slides a hand into Tommy's hair and kisses him again.

Adam's teeth nip Tommy's lips, and his tongue starts fucking Tommy's mouth. All of the promises of stage-kissing slam into Tommy, and he has to wrap his arms around Adam just to keep himself from sagging back to the ground. Something Adam clearly notices, because he cradles Tommy and lowers him down. Follows him down and lays out on top of him. Adam takes such care not to crush him that Tommy wants nothing more than to make him lose that carefulness.

"What do you want?" Adam asks, his lips shining in the candlelight. "Just tell me, and I'll make it happen."

"You," Tommy replies, because he doesn't really know what else to say. He's jerked off to more than one fantasy. Done some research on the 'net for what that's worth. Some things, like blowjobs and hand jobs, he figures are the same no matter the sex of his partner. But he doesn't fucking _know_.

Adam cocks his head and looks at him, through him. "You're thinking too much, Tommy Joe," he says, smoothing a thumb over Tommy's eyebrows. "I'm obviously doing something wrong if you're still able to do that."

Raising an eyebrow and wrapping his legs around Adam's thighs, Tommy says, "Better show me how it's done right then, huh?"

"If you insist." Mouth curling into a smirk, Adam bends down, licks one of Tommy's nipples, sucks it into his mouth, rolls it, and then breathes on it. Arousal races through Tommy, settles in his cock and balls, and he thrusts his hips against Adam's equally hard, equally clothed cock.

"Oh yeah." The words spill out of Tommy's mouth, half-prayer, half-curse, and he grabs for Adam. Needing to touch, to make Adam feel a fraction of what he does, he skims his fingernails over Adam's shoulders and down his spine. The shudder that ripples through Adam's skin sets Tommy's fingers tingling, and suddenly none of what they're doing is anywhere near enough.

It's a stretch to reach all the way down Adam's back, awkward and almost painful, and when he hits cotton, he shoves at Adam's stupid drawstring pants. "Get these the fuck off."

Because Tommy just fucking wants, and he's willing to give it all over to Adam to make that happen, but not if there's anything at all between them.

"Gimme," he says.

And Adam, because he's so damn smart, _gets it_ , gets what Tommy's never been able to explain, not even to Mia or Mike or any of his other friends or lovers. That Tommy's not asking for giving but for taking.

Adam moves fast. He's sliding Tommy's jeans off and throwing them into a heap with their other clothes before Tommy can even think about helping, and Jesus, is Adam careful. Flicking buttons, unzipping, turning it into a touch-fest without trapping a single one of Tommy's short and curlies in the zipper.

"Oh, fuck, Tommy." Adam drags his fingers through Tommy's pubic hairs, pulling lightly — and how has Tommy never known that's a complete turn-on — before splaying his hands on Tommy's hips. He traces his thumbs over Tommy's prominent hipbones, touching every-fucking-where except Tommy's cock.

"Adam." Tommy stretches out the second vowel into a litany of complaints. He's swiveling his hips, pushing upwards, trying everything to get Adam's hand on his cock.

But Adam just hushes him and glides his hands down Tommy's legs. Lifting Tommy's left leg, he sucks on the arch of his foot, sending fire, sharp and bright, racing through Tommy's veins straight into his cock. Then it's a dirty slide of Adam's mouth and tongue all the way up to Tommy's inner thigh that has Tommy clawing at Adam's arms.

"Fucking tease," Tommy says, the words low enough to qualify as a growl. "Get your ass down here before I come without you."

"Lube," Adam replies, as if that's an answer, and maybe it is. What the fuck does Tommy know anyway?

Tommy's almost resigned himself to having Adam get up and leave, when the fucker reaches over and unearths a tube from between the couch cushions. The cap goes skittering across the coffee table, and Adam squeezes some out over his hand.

"Yours, too," Adam says, grabbing Tommy's right hand and laying a line of slick on his palm.

After staring at it for a second, a sly grin crosses Tommy's face. His heart stutters and regains its rhythm. He clenches his hand into a fist and moves his fingers until his hand is as slicked up as he can get it. Then he props himself up on his left arm and takes Adam's cock in hand.

Hell, yeah. He can so do this. Even with the strange angle, Adam's cock feels good and thick and just fucking _right_ in his hand as he moves his hand in long, hard strokes. He gives it a not-quite-vicious twist over the head every so often, drags his thumb up the vein and presses into _that_ spot just beneath the head other times.

He's just rubbed one of the calluses on this thumb into Adam's slit when Adam releases a guttural groan. Tommy just manages to get his hand out of the way before Adam crashes down on top of him.

Spreading his legs wider, Tommy makes room for him and then wraps his legs around Adam's. Each movement, each roll of their hips as they move into alignment shoots tingling sparks up Tommy's cock. He thrusts into that feeling, wanting more and more and fucking more.

His cock slides against Adam's, rubs against Adam's pubic hair, bumps into his skin. Faster and faster. They rock together. Hold each other. Their kisses turn into desperate tongue fucking, their mouths open and aching. It's a slide of cock against skin against cock, and Tommy's on the verge of babbling some kinda shit when orgasm catches him, pulses through him, makes everything slicker and better and brighter as he drinks down the moan Adam sings when he finally comes.

Adam's still half on top of Tommy, nuzzling his throat, as they try to catch their breaths, when Tommy realizes how fucking unforgiving the floor is. His ass isn't big enough to cushion a damn thing, and his tailbone feels as if it's been compacted. He shifts uncomfortably, and Adam rises up off him immediately.

"You okay?" Adam asks. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and he looks as wasted as Tommy feels.

"Just being crushed between your fucking floor and you," Tommy says and shoves at him.

Adam laughs. It's a bright and glittery sound that brings a smile to Tommy's face.

An unfamiliar contentment unfurls somewhere deep inside Tommy, and he feels like snapping and snarling and curling into Adam's side and humming. All at the same time. Not knowing what else to do, he pushes at Adam's shoulder. "We're either going to your bed, or I'm heading home to mine, for the record. I refuse to stay like this one second longer."

"Mine," Adam says.

They scramble to their feet, leaning against each other for support and almost toppling each other over. The candle guttered out at some point, so there's only the doors to close and the alarm to set.

Tommy's patient about that, he really is. A fucking saint, actually, because they're both still naked. He stands on the first stair and leans against the railings, scratching the come drying on his chest, instead of heading up while Adam spends far too long squinting at the number pad.

"All done," Adam finally says. He comes over to stand in front of Tommy, still a couple of inches taller than him, even with the step up.

The kiss this time is gentle, softer than any Tommy's ever known. The brush of lips and lick of tongue winds its way down to Tommy's toes and back up again to settle somewhere in his chest. He hugs Adam and kisses him back in just the same way.

Tomorrow will come too soon; Tommy knows that just like he knows Adam's going to want to talk. And because it's Adam and he's worth that all that shit and more, Tommy will let him, and he'll do his best to talk, too.

But for now, for tonight, Tommy wants Adam and Adam's bed. All those miles of legs and arms curled around him, keeping him warm.

So, he holds out his hand to Adam, and Adam takes it with that stupid-ass quirky grin that Tommy can't resist. He bumps into Adam on the way up the stairs until Adam takes the hint and loops his arm over Tommy's shoulders.

By the time they get to the top, Tommy's got his arm around Adam's waist and his head against Adam's chest, and he's looking forward to whatever the fuck comes next.


End file.
